Angel
by Fayra Lee
Summary: Four missing scenes of Warren’s relationship with his father.


_**Angel**_

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**AN**: Many many thanks to the wonderful beta-reader Innervoice-chan. THANK YOU

**AN 2**: The Hellfire Club is comic-verse, but I used it anyway. It's a club for rich people, very classy, very exclusive. If you want to know more about it, they have the whole story atWikipedia.

Now, the fic.

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**The Club**

_12 years_

When he was twelve years old his father took him to the Hellfire Club, and introduced him to people who were practically legends. The lords of the global economy, people who controlled entire countries.

Warren didn't know about that, of course. What he knew was that his father had a hand on his shoulder guiding him through the maze of Armani suits and expensive, silky dresses, his eyes shining with love and pride. And the boy was smiling happily in this knowledge, shaking hands with everyone, cheerful even if his suit was itchy and his tie made it hard to breathe.

After the party, when they were going back home in the limo, his father stopped at a restaurant so Warren could eat. He ordered a glass of wine for himself and let Warren taste it, and they both laughed when the boy choked on the strong drink.

In the few minutes that it took them to get home, he sat close to his father (a little ashamed because he wanted to rest his head on his father's shoulder), memorizing every detail of the perfect night.

This proved to be a good idea. After all, tonight would be the last time he saw that prideful look on his father's face.

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**The Ache**

_15 years_

"I didn't want to do this," he said. "I didn't want it, son, I really didn't…"

Warren tried to look at him. He was on the bed, lying on his belly – he always slept that way now – with his wrists locked in handcuffs at the head of the bed.

"Why didn't you wait?' his father asked. "The research is almost done now, I told you, everything is going just fine… The possibilities are—"

He had to stop again.

Warren's eyes were filled with tears. "I just thought…" whispered the boy. "…dad, this hurts so much…"

Not the wings. They had bothered him a little, in the beginning, when they were growing, but not anymore… now they were just a dead weight on his back.

What was hurting now were the cuts that he himself had made in the attempt to take them off, the cuts and slashes on his back and shoulders and on whatever was under the feathers.

"Just wait a little more, son, I'll fix everything, you'll see… I will…"

Warren looked up at him tearfully. "I don't want to wait!" he sobbed. "I have to wear the straps all the time and it hurts me—and I can't fly, I know how to, but I can't because you won't let me—and I can't walk and it hurts…!"

"Son, I—"

"It hurts me, dad…"

His father held his wrists. The handcuffs made a small metallic sound. "I'll take this off, and then… you won't hurt yourself anymore, right? You'll just wait for me to find a solution, right?"

Warren didn't answer. He couldn't even if he wanted to.

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**The Speech**

_22 years_

Calm and secure. In control and composed and very professional.

On the outside, that is. On the inside he was shaking.

"Yes," he said. "That's what I decided."

But he didn't have the courage to look at his father's face. Not after that.

"I decided—" he stopped, almost choking on the words, but still tried to force them out. "I decided from now on that… that I'll show myself… to the world. I mean, I'll show who I…who I really am. Just like that. And if you—"

Calm. Secure.

"…And if nobody likes me, I…if you don't like it, well… then I'll be…then it…"

Professional. Calm. Very calm.

"…Then it won't matter to me. Not at all."

Simple, calm and professional. On the inside he was screaming please, now you have to say it's okay and it's not a problem and it's okay, really, and that you still—

"This is your choice," his father said sadly. His eyes were full of disappointment.

"It is my choice."

Please, please…

He just stood there as his father left the room.

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**The Wings**

_22 years (a few days later)_

They are walking side by side in the garden.

"Do you remember the first time I brought you here?" asks the father.

People pass them by, occasionally stopping and staring. It's not every day that an angel comes to the Hellfire Club.

"I remember," he answers with a smile.

A pause.

"You know," his father says slowly, "I don't think I have—I haven't quite apologized to you yet, and—"

"It's okay," Warren says. "It's okay."

The man stops and looks at him. Looks at the huge white wings on his son's back.

"I didn't think you would come back."

"Neither did I, really… but then, at the school, when I heard them speaking, I…"

"I was so… when I saw you, I… I'm so proud of you…"

Tears fill Warren's eyes.

Around them, people pass and look and see a well-dressed man holding an angel tightly in his arms.

In the afternoon's light, the outstretched wings shine like pearls.

**End**


End file.
